Ad Astra Per Aspera - Phase 1
by TaleWeaver
Summary: All fills for Skyeward appreciation week 2015 on tumblr. Fingers crossed that I'll be posting Phase 2 next year! (The series title is Latin, meaning "A rough road leads to the stars" or "To the stars through difficulties", which I think sums this couple up perfectly, especially given the extra-terrestial influence on Skye's origins.)
1. Day 1: Beginnings

DAY ONE - PROMPT: BEGINNINGS

_NOTE: In December 2014, I came across a wonderful fanvid on youtube, called 'Grant Ward is the specialist', by Summer Day, which portrayed Ward in classic James Bond style with Skye as his Moneypenny. This was the inspiration for my series 'This Spy for Hire', where Grant is a freelance espionage agent with Skye as his hacker-partner - which is going to show up again this week!_

_While the episode 'Ragtag' gives us a timeline for Grant meeting Garrett, and his being admitted to SHIELD Academy, the dates are still iffy - this fic presumes that S1 and at least the first part of S2 takes place in 2014, with Skye being 25 that year. I'm also going on Operations being a three-year course at SHIELD Academy, with the initial SHIELD contract being for three years._

**A Trail of pebbles to find your way home (This Spy for Hire: prologue)**

_Once upon a time in Wyoming, a little girl wandered away from her camping group and got lost in the woods, where she found an even more lost boy..._

**_1999_**

Mary Sue tripped over another tree root, and this time she was too tired to catch her balance. She fell into a heap on the ground, and burst out sobbing because there was no one around to hear her cry.

She'd been so happy to come on this camping trip; Sister Mackenna had even argued with Sister Constance for her – Sister Constance had said that only junior high and above kids should come on the trip. Now she was going to get into so much trouble!

Mary Sue knew that she had a certain reputation, for pranks and '_born to raise Hell, that one – sigh_', and if she was being really truthful it wasn't exactly unfair. But she didn't do **stupid** stuff, and running away into the woods was really stupid. She'd just wanted to find the stream she could hear splashing, so she knew where to go for the water tomorrow morning. So that big dumb jerk Colby wouldn't laugh at her again.

But she'd lost the path when the moon went behind a cloud and didn't come out again, and it felt like she'd been walking for hours, and her feet were really sore and her legs felt heavy and she was really scared! Mary Sue wasn't scared of **anything** (except maybe the boogeyman), but she was scared now, and she really really wished that Sister Cecelia hadn't read them all the story of Hansel and Gretel last week.

Mary Sue was sobbing so hard that she didn't hear soft footfalls on the leaves around her, and she was so weary that when she felt the soft, rough touch on her cheek she didn't scream, she just turned and blinked in vague surprise.

"Um, hello?"

The big dark dog _woofed_ gently back at her, and wagged his tail enthusiastically. Then he sat on his haunches, threw back his head, and let out several short, sharp barks.

Mary Sue pushed herself up into a sitting position, setting off a rustle of leaves that hid the approach of someone who'd learned how to keep themselves unnoticed even younger than she had.

"What did you find, Buddy?"

Mary Sue didn't scream at the tall figure looming out of the darkness. How could a bad person belong to a lovely dog like this?

When the man stopped next to Buddy, he looked even taller, but the moon finally came back and Mary Sue could see that he wasn't scary at all – he wasn't even very old. High school, maybe.

The hunter looked down at Buddy, who looked up at him and panted happily.

"Um, Buddy? This is not dinner."

"Of course I'm not dinner, I'm Mary Sue!" she told him indignantly.

The hunter chuckled, then looked surprised, like maybe he wasn't used to laughing. There were some other kids at Saint Agnes' like that.

"Well, Mary Sue, how did you get out here?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted, hastily scrubbing the tear-streaks from her face. "I was trying to find the creek, but the moon went away-" she scowled up at the moon in reproach and not a little hurt, hadn't she always considered it her best friend until now? "And I started walking and walking and then I tripped and Buddy found me."

The hunter crouched down, and Mary Sue almost blushed. He was really, really handsome – like a fairytale character! She nearly started looking around again in alarm, because if there was a handsome huntsman, where was the Big Bad Wolf? But Buddy didn't seem worried.

"Do you know where your family was camping, Mary Sue? I know most of the campsites around here, so if you remember a campsite number or a cabin name, I can probably take you home before your parents get too worried."

Mary Sue shook her head. "I don't have parents. I don't have a family. I came for the Saint Agnes camping trip, with Sister Mackenna and Sister Frances and Father Blackie."

"A group? Okay, there's only a couple of sites I know of that can handle groups... come to think of it, they're all a pretty long walk from here. You've come a long way, sweetheart."

Mary Sue blushed for real, this time.

"Too far to walk in the dark, I think," the huntsman looked thoughtful. "Look, would you be okay with coming back to my campsite with Buddy and me? I promise we'll take you back first thing in the morning – as soon as the sun's up, if you like. But you're tired and it's late, and no matter how well I know these woods it's still pretty easy to get lost in the dark."

Mary Sue looked at Buddy, who _woofed_ encouragingly.

"Okay."

Mary Sue spent that night cuddled up with Buddy in Grant's tent, while he sat watch outside by the campfire. After a kind of strange (Mary Sue had no idea there were so many things to eat in the woods!) but yummy breakfast, Grant carried her piggyback-style, while Buddy scouted the way ahead.

Mary Sue spent the walk telling him all about Saint Agnes Home for Children. By the time they'd found the creek - and how she'd missed falling into it in the dark was a minor miracle in itself – Mary Sue knew that Grant didn't have any family either, or at least no family he wanted to be anywhere near... there were lots of kids at Saint Agnes like that, too.

Mary Sue made Grant put her down after they crossed the creek, though – she didn't want to look like a little kid in front of everyone.

It was kind of nice, though, the way everyone looked so glad to see her, and that she was alright.

Colby had laughed at her, and started to make a mean comment, but Grant had stepped up behind her. He didn't say anything, but Colby went pale as a sheet, and he never said a mean thing to her – or any of the little kids – ever again.

Sister Mackenna had really truly cried as she hugged Skye tightly, and showered all kinds of blessings on Grant's head, which made him shuffle his feet and blush. There was also a strange twist to his mouth that made Mary Sue think that maybe Grant had spent a lot of time praying to God with no answer.

Mary Sue was pretty sure that Father Blackie saw that, too – he kind of reminded her of a sparrow, sometimes, the way he sometimes tilted his head, and how even though everyone's eyes just passed over him, Father Blackie's own bright, quick eyes missed absolutely nothing.

Maybe that was why when Grant and Buddy came back to Saint Agnes with them, none of the staff ever pressed him for more details on why he'd run away from home and ended up living in the woods.

Mary Sue did, and Grant told her why he wanted to be just Grant Douglas from now on. She'd started to learn how to break into computers and make them give up all their secrets, so she could find her parents, and there were a few kids at Saint Agnes who knew how to break into offices and houses and find their secrets too. It took a more than a year, but between her growing skills with computers and the skills Grant learned from some of the shadier kids, they managed to erase nearly all traces of Grant Douglas Ward, especially pictures because she knew from that TV show that there were government agencies that could take a photo of a kid and show what he looked like as an adult.

Years later, right before Grant left Saint Agnes, Mary Sue let slip what she'd thought about him in the woods that night – and she never, ever forgot the peculiar, thoughtful look on Grant's face, when he replied that maybe the Big Bad Wolf had been and gone and never come back.

**_2000_**

Grant was on busboy duty in the dining hall, but he happened to look outside the window as he cleared some dishes.

Buddy was sitting beneath the big oak at the end of the driveway, silent and still while he gazed towards the gates and waited.

Grant grinned, and hurried through the rest of the tables so he could go join his dog – technically speaking, Buddy belonged to everyone, (it was why he was allowed to stay at Saint Agnes too) but everyone also knew he was Grant's dog first. But close on Grant's heels was Mary Sue, and Buddy always seemed to know when she was due back.

As he settled onto the grass next to Buddy, Grant couldn't help but frown sadly. The whole family thing hadn't worked out very well for him, but he knew how much Mary Sue longed for one, even if she was careful not to tell him so he didn't feel bad. Mary Sue had been away a whole three months with this foster family, and he'd started to hope that she wouldn't come back to Saint Agnes until the Twelfth Night party, when all the new families of kids who'd been here were invited to visit. He'd known Mary Sue just over a year, but this was her third family since they'd met. Saint Agnes had a fairly transient population, and Grant was familiar with the system – the nuns were really careful who they let kids go out to, and Sister Constance, in particular, had a real knack for knowing which kid would go best with which potential parents. A kid might be returned once or twice, but that asshole Colby was the only one Grant knew of who'd been returned three times... except for Mary Sue. She'd been in and out of various families since she started school – **and** she'd been here longer than anyone else.

Grant truly couldn't understand why; as far as he was concerned, Mary Sue Poots was one of the most awesome people on Earth. Yeah, he was biased, but he wasn't imagining things either – Mary Sue could even make Sister Lagori smile!

But Buddy was sitting up and barking, and Grant put aside his contemplations. The little Honda that someone had donated to Saint Agnes last year was coming up the drive, and he could see Sister Mackenna behind the wheel. Good thing he'd stashed that double chocolate chip ice cream right back on the top shelf of the cold room, where only he and Sister Cecelia could reach.

Another six months went by, and Grant was on the verge of turning eighteen. He knew that the nuns wouldn't kick him out or anything, but it was time to grow up and make his own way in the world. The home schooling the nuns had helped him with meant that 'Grant Douglas' was going to get a proper high school diploma, but what could he do with that?

Grant was thinking of going into the Army – he'd learn how to defend himself, and protect others. That was something he still longed to do. Skye – as she now insisted he call her – was nagging him to go into the Air Force instead, because he'd look better in dress whites than khaki, and everyone knew it was safer in the air than on the ground. Grant had to admit, he really liked the idea of learning to fly.

_If he had spent the past two years anywhere but Saint Agnes, that was how the story would have continued. Air Force Captain Grant Douglas would have served with distinction in the Middle East, and been rewarded with an honorable discharge. After going to college on the GI Bill, he would eventually become a child psychologist. Skye would have been a bridesmaid at his wedding, and godmother-slash-'Aunt Skye' to all three of his children – and his second wife, after Grant became a widower due to a traffic accident caused by the Triskelion Collapse._

_But he __**was**__ at Saint Agnes, a place that several SHIELD agents had kept a close eye on over the years. On the day he received his official diploma in the mail, Sister Constance called him into her office, where a recruiter was waiting._

**_2009_**

Skye sighed in abject misery, and her fingers tapped out a nervous tattoo on the metal bench she sat upon. She'd been in jail for all of two hours, and she was already about to climb out of her skin. The very butch looking hooker on the other bench, who kept eyeing her like a roast chicken in the supermarket, didn't help.

Skye still couldn't believe that after all her adventures, all the scandalous hacks she'd pulled off, and all the precautions she'd taken - because she **still** didn't do **stupid** stuff! – she was in jail because someone she barely knew had been pulled over for smoking pot while driving.

Mark Smeaton was a fan of her hacking skills, and angling to join the same hacktivist group she'd helped found a year ago. He'd collected a scrapbook of sorts on her exploits, including printouts of forum discussions that no one with half a brain would consider anything but top secret. He'd also included a photo that he'd taken without her permission. Skye regularly sent out a virus into cyberspace specifically to track down and destroy any images of her, but Mark had printed out this photo before the online backup had even activated.

When Mark had been arrested, his laptop had been on the passenger seat, and the program he'd set up to hack into the Federal Reserve had still been running. His scrapbook had been taken into evidence, and when asked about it, the little weasel had spilled over in fanboy enthusiasm for her, including one of the coffee shops where she went on a regular basis. When she'd stopped by for her regular this morning, she'd been arrested on suspicion of cyber-crimes.

Skye heard ominous-sounding footsteps coming on the concrete floors, and looked up in anticipation.

A fluttering, nearly-blushing patrolwoman came into view first; given the stony face and bored demeanor she'd been sporting as she booked Skye in, Skye made her face blank, just in case.

Another few seconds, and Skye knew she'd been right to take the precaution – following the patrolwoman was the obvious cause of changed demeanor. The tall, dark-haired man wore a nondescript dark suit. However, the suit couldn't hide the fact he was so gorgeous he should come with several safety warnings; no wonder the hard-bitten patrolwoman was so flustered.

"Prisoner... **Skye**?" the Suit stated, more than asked. But the way he said her name – dripping derision in a '_You don't really think you're fooling anyone, do you?_' sort of way – set her teeth on edge.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," she retorted.

The patrolman's attack of the blushing girlies drained away faster than Skye could crack a firewall, and she snapped, "Keep a civil tongue in your head around the Agent. He'll be handling your transport." She smirked, "Apparently you aren't as good as you think. A goverment agency that I won't name right now is taking over your case, on the grounds that they've got enough to put you in Guantanamo."

Skye decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and kept her face blank and her mouth firmly shut, through being handcuffed (usually, being restrained by a guy this hot would be much more fun), and frog-marched out of the station's side entrance into a blandly sinister black SUV.

"Unnamed government agency?" Skye asked once they'd been waved out through the security gate.

"CIA badge. It's one of the most common SHIELD covers. Specialists are not only encouraged, but expected to have off-the-books resources, and I made sure I had badges for several of the alphabets as part of that."

"Speaking of, how'd you get here so fast? Aren't you supposed to be overseas for at least a couple of months? I thought I was going to be stuck waiting for Miles to notice I was incommunicado and come looking."

"I was actually coming to find you anyway. I've been to Paris several times but I've never really seen it; I thought you might like to join me for a month or two as an actual visitor with maybe some random French destinations thrown in."

"Sounds like the best plan you've come up with since we framed Colby for the Midnight Chocolate Pudding Caper. But what about your job? I can't believe that SHIELD just lets specialists take off to roam Paris with infamous hackers – even if they are childhood friends."

"I quit SHIELD two weeks ago."

Skye's jaw dropped almost into her lap. She picked it up again with an effort, just enough to ask, "Dude. What. The. Hell?"

Grant's hands tightened on the wheel until his knuckles went white. "A month ago, I was wandering through the Hub – and no, I'm not telling you where that is. Since my initial contract was about to expire, I was there to get the required psych eval and legal advice for a renewal, as well as briefing for a proposed undercover mission – I would have been posing as a Russian attaché.

"Then I heard a voice, and – Jesus Christ, I nearly went into a Highlander-level flashback then and there. I managed to follow the sound and get a look, and... Skye, it was the Big Bad Wolf. The guy who broke me out of juvie and dumped me in the woods. His name is John Garrett, and he's a Level 8 SHIELD agent. I have no fucking idea why he did what he did with me, but that is **not** approved SHIELD recruitment tactics; whatever the reason, it wasn't good. But I don't have enough intel to even make a report to someone in HR. I had to get out before he realised I was a part of SHIELD, and easily accessible."

What Grant didn't say was that he'd connected two and two a long time ago – a SHIELD recruiter finding him at Saint Agnes, and Skye spending her whole childhood there. He'd visited her at a few of those placements, and even at the time, he could tell that some of those families had really liked Skye. The only reason for her not to be adopted, or at least permanently placed, meant that it was on purpose. SHIELD had been keeping an eye on Skye for a long time, and found him into the bargain. If John Garrett recognised Grant Douglas, and dug into his past... how long would it be until he found Skye?

With the benefit of espionage training, Grant recognised that Garrett had played him like a full string quartet, that day in juvie. Whatever the man had wanted with his fifteen year old self, it was for something seriously sketchy. If the man found out that SHIELD was interested in Skye, his Level 8 status made it almost impossible to prevent him from finding out why. Grant loved working for SHIELD, but his agency meant less than nothing compared to keeping the most precious person in the world safe.

"But what happens when your old buddies at SHIELD find out about you springing me from custody?" Skye asked curiously.

Grant nodded to the messenger bag at her feet. Skye dragged it onto her lap, unzipped it, and pulled out a laptop. A quick eyeball proved it to be the latest model.

"How fast can you hack into the police department and erase all records of your arrest, including the transfer order?"

Skye shoved the bag back to the floor, and opened the laptop. "I should be done by the time you get my regular order at Lucy's Diner to-go. I'm starving."

"Let's eat in – I have a business propositon for you."

Skye looked up at him, intrigued. "A business proposition?"

Grant nodded, and smiled. "SHIELD gave me a pretty specific skillset, and it's not going to do me a lot of good in the normal world."

"Oh, please," Skye scoffed. "Normal is just a setting on the washing machine."

Grant's smile turned into a grin. "I've decided to go freelance – I want the freedom to decide exactly what I do and who I benefit. I could really use a skilled hacker for backup – research for assignments, background checks on clients, occasionally hacking security systems. I should warn you, though, a lot of it might be of questionable legality."

"Doesn't scare me. Sounds interesting. But the work I'm doing now is important to me, Grant. I really feel like I'm helping people, by revealing things that are only kept secret because the 'powerful' don't want to be judged on their dirty work."

"You could keep doing the hacktivist stuff if you wanted, as long as you don't get yourself or me arrested for it."

"In that case... I'm already leaning towards 'yes'. Buy me lunch and tell me more."


	2. Day Two: Literally falling in love

_NOTE: I originally had a more complex idea in mind for this, and if she read this as is my writing teacher would shake her head in reproach, and send me back to re-drafting with 'show, not tell!' ringing in my ears. But 1) I'm pretty sure I was overthinking my original idea and 2) I've re-drafted Day One so many times I'm sick of editing, and I haven't even started Day Three yet! Hope you like this anyway – and who knows? I may even get back to exploring this idea properly some day. (Hint: leave a comment/review to let me know if you think that's a good idea)_

**Were we written in the stars?**

_A man and his dog witness a mysterious crash in the woods. But no one gets eaten by the Blob._

Buddy barked as he raced ahead through the woods, and Grant hastened his pace. The noise that had reached him all the way at the cabin had sounded a lot like some sort of crash.

But Buddy was all but blind to anything but the trail, and once Grant followed him into the small clearing he understood why; he'd never seen **anything** like the strange pile of glittering blue metal. Whatever it was, it had left a burn trail right across the clearing, which Buddy was cautiously sniffing along. Grant took a swift glance around, and saw a gap in the tree-tops, where whatever this thing was had smashed through high reaching branches on several trees.

Coming closer to the debris, Grant sucked in a shocked breath: it was some kind of **aircraft**. Wondering if he was going to get arrested by Men in Black Suits and forced to sign the Official Secrets Act, Grant headed to where a clearer patch seemed to indicate a windshield of some kind.

Looking into the cockpit, Grant saw a young woman, barely out of her teens, with light brown hair tumbling in waves around her shoulders. She wore a sort of avant-garde flight suit, in red leather that clung to her slender form in all the right ways (and a few wrong ways, for his peace of mind).

Then her eyes opened, and the brown irises locked onto his. The impact felt like he'd been punched in the solar plexus, but there was no pain. Just his breath stalling in his lungs, and the feel of the earth shaking beneath him.

With that single look, he would never be the same again. With that single look, the young woman he would name Skye (because she fell from it) slid past a lifetime's worth of painfully erected defences, to embed herself in his heart, like shrapnel he didn't want to work free.

The girl who hadn't always been named Skye (but who liked 'Skye' much better, frankly) was a member of a long-segregated, technologically advanced tribe of genetically enhanced people that called themselves the Inhumans. She'd fled in her personal aircraft to avoid being traded to a man twice her age in a political marriage; the idea that she would find her genetically ideal mate on the journey had never occurred to her, let alone a mate who instinctively recognised her as such as well!

Skye had always been a take-charge kind of female, so it made perfect sense to her to seduce Grant that same night. Once they'd hidden the remains of her aircraft, the next few days were spent having sex on every flat surface in his (now their) cabin, and a few curved ones.

Regardless of how wonderfully wierd their life together was, or how happy it made him, Grant could never quite stop doubting that it was the DNA-induced mating bond that kept Skye with him. No matter how many times Skye reassured him that she would have fallen in love with him anyway, because he was almost exactly what she'd always wanted in a mate, Grant had spent too long being told he wasn't good enough.

At least until Grant stumbled across Skye's diary, recorded in her ship's computer. The Babel microbes Skye had infected him with during those first days of constant, unprotected sex let him understand the language she'd recorded her thoughts in. One of the earliest entries was a childish list of what Skye wanted in a husband, with several sets of notes and revisions she'd added throughout the years.

It was a little disappointing that Skye had dreamed of a blond-haired, blue-eyed man only slightly taller than she was. But at least he filled the other 23 requirements... and he **did** drastically exceed the required stamina in bed.


	3. Day 3: favourite quotes

_NOTE: I originally meant to do something else in 'This Spy for Hire', but then I read 'I know your type' by TempletonsWeb... and you know what? I really like library AU's too. (upraised fist) Power to all Libraries! _

_I literally just got the idea today at work to make this a fusion with the comic book Rex Libris: so when they talk about Thoth, it really is the Egyptian God! _

_This time-jumps quite a few times, but I was too lazy to come up with dates. This was supposed to be quite a bit longer, but time was not on my side (no matter what The Rolling Stones say). Maybe if I'd come with the initial concept more than 3 days ago I could have done it more justice. _

_Now I think about it, I'm pretty sure that Day Three was supposed to be about your favourite __**SkyeWard**__ quotes... but as David Eddings wrote: 'As long as we're all having fun anyway, what difference does it make?'_

**The Love Song of G Douglas Ward**

_At Middleton Public Library, the basement leads to the Earthly home of Thoth, and the largest collection of extraterrestrial books on Earth. That's not even mentioning what happens in the public stacks! But in between saving the world through knowledge and retrieving overdue books via teleportation crystals, librarians still have everyday problems... like asking out the colleague you're crushing on_.

MIDDLETON PUBLIC LIBRARY RULES OF CONDUCT (AN EXTRACT)

- _Please make sure all members scan their library cards to activate the GPS chip before venturing into the stacks unescorted. All other patrons must be issued a GPS unit from the main desk. Remember, a GPS being active for more than 24 hours requires a rescue party to be sent into the stacks... no one wants a repeat of what happened to Mr T_._

To: librarystaff

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: Quote of the Day

_Albert Einstein_ — 'The only thing that you absolutely have to know, is the location of the _library_.'

To: GDWard

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: thanks!

Grant,

Thank you so much for turning me onto _Unshelved_! Not only is it one of the funniest things I've ever read... have you **seen** the t-shirts? I've already ordered the 'Without Rockets, it's just science' one for my friend Fitz – he really is a rocket scientist, so it's perfect.

To: SkyeHigh

From: GDWard

Subject: RE: thanks!

Wait... you know an actual rocket scientist?

Good to know my recommendation paid off. I honestly think at least one _Unshelved_ collection should be required reading for anyone even thinking of working in a library – as an early warning system!

To: GDWard

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: RE(2): thanks!

Yep, I do! Remind me to tell you how we met someday – now that I have a new van, and have replaced my entire wardrobe (I was living in the van at the time), it's actually pretty funny.

As a bonus, he can use it to passive-aggressively argue with his wife – she's a biochemist. Well, I'm pretty sure she is. She has two Ph.D's, but I can't actually pronounce the fields they're in.

To: GDWard

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: coffee run

Thoth has spoken: a rasberry mocha with sprinkles and a blueberry muffin. You want anything while I'm out?

To: SkyeHigh

From: GDWard

Subject: RE: coffee run

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

- T. S. Eliot

Could you get me a caramel mocha, and a cheesecake donut? I'll pay you back on delivery.

To: GDWard

From: TrippingOut gmail. com

Subject: Reaching the Skyes

I couldn't help but wander into the Middleton public library this afternoon, and what did I see? My good friend, Grant Ward: military school graduate, ex-semi-pro mixed martial arts fighter, crack shot, speaker of six languages, six foot two, handsome enough to have every gay man I have ever met beg me to tell them he's 'sexually adventurous, so at least I can dream!'... completely, utterly, EPIC FAIL to ask one of his co-workers out on a date. Or even smoothly thank her for getting him coffee!

How long have you been crushing on Skye? Six months? Your darling IT-person-slash-internet-projects-co-ordinator is too nice, too smart, and most importantly far too hot to remain single for long. You need to make a move, brother, or you're going to be pining after her as she walks up the aisle.

Grant... you are in serious danger of turning into a Billy Ray Cyrus song.

You're not just a bibliophile, man, you're a freaking librarian! You **rule** with words! Why is it so hard for you to put them in the right order around Skye?

Luckily for you, I was flipping through _Cyrano de Bergerac_ to keep up my French, and I think I have a solution. No, I'm not going to make the moves for you – you're not that hopeless. You need to go seriously old school – woo her through the written word, not the spoken.

To: librarystaff middletonpubliclibrary. com

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: Quote of the Day

Carpe Diem – Seize the Day!

- Robin Williams, Dead Poets' Society

To: SkyeHigh

From: GDWard

Subject: please say yes

I know this should really be done face to face, but I can't seem to actually talk to you without developing verbal dyslexia.

Would you please go out to dinner with me sometime this week? Maybe see The Hobbit 3 afterwards?

To: librarystaff middletonpubliclibrary . com

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: Quote of the Day

"You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after."  
>― The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien<p>

To: SkyeHigh

From: GDWard

Subject: About last night

The moon shines bright. In such a night as this. When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees and they did make no noise, in such a night..."

― William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice

In case I'm being too obscure, I wanted to tell you that I had a really great time at dinner last night. Is it too soon to ask if you're free this Saturday night? Do you like Terry Prachett? The Unseen Theatre Company is staging the play of 'Monstrous Regiment' for the next two weeks.

To: librarystaff middletonpubliclibrary . com

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: Quote of the Day

The Library didn't only contain magical books, the ones which are chained to their shelves and are very dangerous. It also contained perfectly ordinary books, printed on commonplace paper in mundane ink. It would be a mistake to think that they weren't also dangerous, just because reading them didn't make fireworks go off in the sky. Reading them sometimes did the more dangerous trick of  
>making fireworks go off in the privacy of the reader's brain.<p>

- Soul Music, Terry Pratchett

To: GDWard

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: lunch

Sorry, but I won't be able to make lunch tomorrow after all. Circe just picked me to go with her to Xanadu for the book sale. Hope I can get some roller skating in while I'm there!

MIDDLETON PUBLIC LIBRARY RULES OF CONDUCT (AN EXTRACT)

_- If combat in the stacks is necessary due to either Telluric energy manifestations or difficult patrons, please use genre-appropriate weaponry whenever possible. Due to the accuracy issues of muzzle-loading guns, Colt six-shooters and Winchester repeating rifles (or appropriate substitutes) are allowed through all timezones from Napoleonic to Edwardian, regardless of geographical areas. Death rays and laser guns are ONLY allowed in Science fiction, paranormal (fiction and non-fiction), horror, and the extraterrestrial archives in the Repository._

_NB Senior Librarian Circe will use magic in any situation that doesn't breach her parole regulations, and possibly some that will. Don't argue or protest - especially if you're male._

To: TrippingOut gmail .com

From: GDWard

Subject: Skye High

Trip,

I think I may owe you some single malt or something... your idea seems to be working! We've been on three dates in the last two weeks, and they've all gone really well. For some reason, I don't have nearly as much trouble getting the words out when I know that she's already agreed to spend time with me.

Skye wants me to come with her to Comic-Con this weekend – you're a sci fi geek, is that a good sign?

To: librarystaff middletonpubliclibrary . com

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: Quote of the Day

Let's think the unthinkable, let's do the undoable. Let us prepare to grapple with the ineffable itself, and see if we may not eff it after all.

- Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, Douglas Adams

To: SkyeHigh

From: GDWard

Subject: I hope your quote of the day means what I think it does...

_Come what sorrow can, __i__t cannot countervail the exchange of joy, _

_That one sho__rt minute gives me in her sight_

Romeo & Juliet – William Shakespeare

To: librarystaff middletonpubliclibrary . com

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: RE: I hope your quote means what I think it does...

Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee, and when I love thee not, chaos is come again

Othello – Act 3, Scene 3

To: librarystaff middletonpubliclibrary . com

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: Quote of the Day

Someone suggested to me that I read Pablo Neruda last weekend, came across something I thought worth sharing...

The books that help you most are those which make you think the most. The hardest way of learning is that of easy reading; but a great book that comes from a great thinker is a ship of thought, deep freighted with truth and beauty."  
>― Pablo Neruda<p>

To: SkyeHigh

From: GDWard

Subject: thinking of you

This is the female form,

A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot,

It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction,

I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor, all falls aside but myself and it,

Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, and what was expected of heaven or fear'd of hell, are now consumed,

Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it, the response likewise ungovernable,

Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands all diffused, mine too diffused,

Ebb stung by the flow and flow stung by the ebb, love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching,

Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love, white-blow and delirious juice,

Bridegroom night of love working surely and softly into the prostrate dawn,

Undulating into the willing and yielding day,

Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh'd day.

- Walt Whitman

To: GDWard

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: RE: thinking of you

Wait ten minutes, then meet me between Museology and Teleology. Did you know that a recent _Cosmopolitan_ survey revealed that 70% of all women have had sex in their workplace? You know how I like to be on trend...

MIDDLETON PUBLIC LIBRARY RULES OF CONDUCT (AN EXTRACT)

_- Arguing with patrons who refuse to pay late fines MUST be left to members of staff with level three or higher combat certification; this automatically includes all shift supervisors. Don't forget to check the duty roster when you come in for other responders, including First Aid and Magic Wardens._

To: librarystaff middletonpubliclibrary . com

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: Quote of the Day

Come with me, I said, and no one knew  
>where, or how my pain throbbed,<br>no carnations or barcaroles for me,  
>only a wound that love had opened.<p>

- Pablo Neruda

To: SkyeHigh

From: GDWard

Subject: Ouch

Sweetheart, I'm **sorry**!

Look, in hindsight I should have warned you to wear flat shoes. But in my defense, I've never seen you wear high heels before – I'm sure you said you hated them. Also, it was that rampaging dog and children that sent you flying into that thicket of rose bushes... and I was fetching you ice cream at the time.

Please let me make it up to you – how about a re-do of the picnic, only on my living room floor? It's supposed to be storming tonight, and my place should have a good view of the lightning strikes.

To: librarystaff middletonpubliclibrary . com

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: Quote of the Day

Love, she thought, must come suddenly, with great out-bursts and lightning, - a hurricane of the skies, which falls upon life, revolutionises it, roots up the will like a leaf, and sweeps the whol heart into the abyss.

- Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert

To: SkyeHigh

From: GDWard

Subject: MIA

Just wanted to remind you, I won't be home for dinner tonight. I'm part of the retrieval team going to see Stephen Strange - that first edition copy of Grey's Anatomy he borrowed out of the Boss' personal collection is overdue.

To: GDWard

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: RE: MIA

Don't get turned into a frog! I'm happy to kiss you to turn you back, but I'm no princess (I think); not sure true love is enough on it's own to counter the Sorceror Supreme.

To: GDWard

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: Our plans for the holiday weekend

I'm so glad you can come with me to FitzSimmons' annual Fourth of July barbeque after all (do we owe Hypatia anything for swapping shifts?). It's on the rooftop of their building – it's got a great view of the river and the fireworks! There's not much shade, so don't forget a cap and sunglasses. It's FitzSimmons and a device with internal combustion, so we should bring an extra fire extinguisher just in case.

I'm even more glad that you'll be home to spend July 5th with me. I don't know if you realise, but Independence day is followed by another holiday that I feel it's our duty as library workers to embrace.

To: SkyeHigh

From: GDWard

Subject: Last weekend

Thank you for the greatest Independence day weekend of my life. I was really glad to finally meet FitzSimmons – and I'm sorry for ever thinking you were exaggerating when you told me how you met Fitz. But hey, even if the steaks and hot dogs **were** a bit scorched, what's ID4 without an explosion or two?

As for July 5th... International Read Naked Day has permanently made my top 5 holidays of the year. I much appreciated your choice of Pablo Neruda poetry for our first book; almost as much as I appreciated what we did after we finished the book. And what we did after a few chapters of _Raising Steam_.

But it's probably a good thing we didn't invite the rest of the staff to join us as I suggested last week. I don't think I'll ever get to the point where I take the sight of you naked for granted enough to share it.

To: SkyeHigh

From: GDWard

Subject: can't wait until we get home...

**_The Vine  
><em>**by Ovid  
>translated by Christopher Marlowe<p>

I dreamed this mortal part of mine  
>Was metamorphosed to a vine,<br>Which crawling one and every way  
>Enthralled my dainty Lucia.<br>Methought her long small legs and thighs  
>I with my tendrils did surprise;<br>Her belly, buttocks, and her waist  
>By my soft nervelets were embraced.<br>About her head I writhing hung,  
>And with rich clusters (hid among<br>The leaves) her temples I behung,  
>So that my Lucia seemed to me<br>Young Bacchus ravished by his tree.  
>My curls about her neck did crawl,<br>And arms and hands they did enthrall,  
>So that she could not freely stir<br>(All parts there made one prisoner).  
>But when I crept with leaves to hide<br>Those parts which maids keep unespied,  
>Such fleeting pleasures there I took<br>That with the fancy I awoke;  
>And found (ah me!) this flesh of mine<br>More like a stock than like a vine.  
>Upon the Nipples of Julia's Breast<br>Have you beheld (with much delight)  
>A red rose peeping through a white?<br>Or else a cherry (double graced)  
>Within a lily? Centre placed?<br>Or ever marked the pretty beam,  
>A strawberry shows, half drowned in cream?<br>Or seen rich rubies blushing through  
>A pure smooth pearl, and orient too?<br>So like to this, nay all the rest,  
>Is each neat niplet of her breast.<p>

To: GDWard

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: Oh my God!

Grant Douglas!

That was rude, crude, and extremely lewd.

Go home, strip naked, and get in our bed RIGHT NOW.

You won't be leaving it anytime soon.

To: librarystaff middletonpubliclibrary . com

From: SkyeHigh

Subject: Quote of the Day

Today's quote is from my go-to guy for anything with words... William Shakespeare, of course!

"At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer

What I desire to give, and much less take

What I shall die to want. But this is trifling,

And all the more it seeks to hide itself

The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning,

And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!

I am your wife if you will marry me.

If not, I'll die your maid."

- The Tempest: Act 3, Scene 1

And Grant? I just wanted to make absolutely sure, in case I wasn't clear enough last night – because I remember doing a lot of gasping and shrieking 'Yes yes yes!' , but I'm not sure if you realise it was in response to your question.

Yes, I will marry you.

Does the Bodleian do weddings? That way we can go straight to London for our honeymoon and rampage through Charing Cross Road.


	4. Day 4: changes compare and contrast

DAY FOUR – CHANGES

_Also: COMPARE AND CONTRAST/PARALLELS_

_Don't ask me __where __this idea came from. Seriously, I don't know - it just sort of showed up in my brain the week before SwW started. I haven't done a lot of research on the psychological condition presented here; apologies for any glaringly offensive errors._

_In case you haven't been following the news for spoilers, 'Dr Andrew Garner' is a forthcoming guest/recurring character in season 2.5 who is a forensic psychologist (and Melinda May's ex-husband)._

_WARNING: SMUT AHEAD. I think it's 'mature' not 'explicit', but frankly I'm too lazy to change the rating on the overall fic. So consider this your warning._

**Two is better than one**

_There's nothing like having the person you love most waiting when you walk in the door._

"Ah, home at last!" Skye groaned, as she dumped her bag next to the front door.

"Sounds like you had a long day."

Skye looked up at her approaching roomate, and gave him a quick sweeping, searching glance, before she smiled cheerily. "Felt long, anyway. But now I get to work at home for the rest of the week. Without anyone looking over my shoulder I can set automated programs to get the bulk of it done. Three days at home, and I'll need to spend maybe one day working. I love telecommuting!"

Grant chuckled, and handed her a tall glass, filled with crushed ice and liquid that swirled in red, yellow, and orange. Skye knocked back half the drink in one shot, finishing with a deep sigh.

"Oh yeah, that's the stuff. This is why you're my best friend."

"What, just because I can out-mix a bartender?"

"Nah," Skye told him teasingly. "That's just one of many. Want to order in Chinese for dinner?"

"Already did. It's in the oven keeping warm." Grant blinked and yawned widely. "Sorry, Skye... I've been really sleepy for awhile. I was just waiting to say hello when you got home-"

Skye stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Grant, go nap on the couch. I'll watch over you while you're out."

Grant gave her an achingly sweet, sleepy smile, and Skye's breath caught as he bent forward and kissed her on the forehead. For the few seconds the contact lasted, it was like every square millimetre of skin that met his lips tingled.

Sometimes it was really hard, being in love with Grant Ward. But there were compensations.

As Grant settled onto the couch, a European pillow underneath his head (all their cushions were actually square pillows for this reason), Skye headed towards her bedroom. She unlaced her ankle boots, gently kicking them into the corner, and shucked the barely-office-appropriate dress she wore, haphazardly tossing it into the laundry basket.

As she stood there in her underwear, she reached up to her scalp and started plucking out the hairpins... only to feel large, strong fingers brush against her own, weaving gently through her hair as they took out what she laughably called a hairstyle and finger-combed her long tresses. Another set of fingers brushed along her spine as the other hand undid her bra. Not many men could do that one-handed, but this man had had a lot of practise – at least, with her bras.

"Hey there, sweetheart," came a deep, husky voice. A casual observer might have mistaken it for Grant with a cold. "I heard you had a long day."

Skye tilted and turned her head to look at the man behind her, then smiled again. But this smile was sultry and inviting. "Hey, lover. I did indeed. I could use some relaxation therapy."

Both hands slid her bra straps off her shoulders, letting the garment drop on the floor as he cupped both her breasts in his big hands, skillfully rubbing her rapidly hardening nipples while the rest of his hand massaged the globes.

Skye moaned and let herself go limp with abruptly surging desire, leaning back to rest against her long-time lovers' firm chest.

"What kind of relaxation therapy are we talking here? Backrub, foot massage, tequila sunrise while we snark on a bad movie and laugh ourselves sick?" he asked laughingly.

"All of those sound nice," Skye sighed. Then moaned as one of the hands slipped down the front of her panties. God, he'd barely touched her and she was already wet for him. The things this man made her feel. "But right now, I'd like the kind where we both get naked and fuck slow and deep."

"That's my favourite kind," Ward chuckled.

All her weariness melted away, as Skye helped Ward undress – she never ceased to be glad that her best friend and lover liked tight T-shirts. As she unhooked his belt, eager to get her hands on the body beneath, she barely noticed the large hands sliding her panties off her hips and down her legs.

Skye lifted one foot off the floot and out of her discarded underwear, and curled her leg around Ward's thigh (sometimes the height difference was a real pain). Ward took the hint, and gripped her hips, lifting her up so that her legs curled around his waist properly. Stepping to the bed, Ward knelt on the mattress and leaned forward so Skye could rest flat on the bed.

_Skye was fifteen when she met Grant Ward in group therapy. She was dealing with abandonment issues, which manifested by hacking into any government agency or powerful company she could, and spilling every dirty secret she could find over the internet. Grant was dealing with the trauma of a childhood where his mother physically abused him, his older brother psychologically abused him (with the occasional foray in physical as well) and his father watched the whole thing and did nothing. This state of affairs had lasted until his younger brother called the police; because once Thomas understood just how twisted their family situation was, he also understood that if he didn't do something soon one of the Ward kids was going end up dead – and he and Grant were the odds-on favorites. _

_Skye wasn't sure why Grant managed to get through her barbed-wire maze defenses, but he slipped through them like he had a map. Before she really knew it, Skye was best friends and half in love with this beautiful, supposedly priviledged boy who was far more broken than she was. Who, as it turned out, was even more broken than __**he**__ knew._

Ward bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. It was a soft, chaste kiss, but it made her whole body tingle, and she sighed with loss when he pulled away. Skye pulled him down for another long, probing kiss, and Ward groaned and parted his lips, his own tongue fighting with hers for dominance until he broke off and kissed a trail down her neck and over her chest.

His hands gently squeezed her breasts as his mouth sucked and licked her nipples driving her mad with desire. Her breath came out in a rush then held still as he moved from one hardened tip to the other. Her hands clutched into his hair and shoulder when he sucked in her breast. She threw back her head as his tongue circled her nipple, then she gasped as his teeth lightly grazed it. His mouth moved back up to her lips, as she wrapped her legs around his hips.

_It was Skye who Grant finally told about the problem he hadn't been able to bring himself to share in group. At least twice a week, Grant fell asleep... and woke up somewhere else, sometimes even wearing different clothes, hours or even days later. _

_Naturally, Skye pledged to stay by his side to keep him safe in his 'blank spaces'... so Skye became the first person who actually met Ward._

Skye could feel a tingling warmth rushed through her body, and she moaned Ward's name as he eased his hips away from hers. Her right hand searched across the bed to find his, planted next to her hip on the sheets, and she entwined her fingers with his. He slipped a finger inside her with the other hand, and her body writhed with her need, her movements gentle as his. Then he slipped two fingers inside of her, and her hand tightened it's grasp on his. She rocked her hips against his hand, pushing against it, trying to force his fingers in further, and she whined in protest when he took both his hands away.

Hooking his hands underneath her bent knees, Ward gently unwrapped her legs. He pushed one to the side, spreading her wide open for him, and lifted the other over his shoulder. Not to be outdone, Skye reached down between their bodies and curled her fingers around his erection, guiding him to where he belonged. Ward slid into her with a slow, insistent thrust, and Skye sighed in contentment as his hips settled flush against hers. Ward pulled back slightly, then as Skye tugged on his hair, urging him on, he started to pump his hips in earnest, his pace slow but forceful, every stroke reaching deep inside her.

_When Grant was a few weeks short of his twelfth birthday, his older brother pushed him down a well and walked away. It was Ward who climbed back out, most of his fingernails ripped out and splintered, and a lip bitten through from sheer effort of holding back screams of rage. From that day forward, it was Ward who dealt with their mother's violence, and who stood proud against Christian's torments. While Grant could cope with his father's dismissal of the abuse his mother heaped on both her first two sons, it was Ward who let the man's verbal abuse wash over him and ignored it._

_Originally, Ward had only surfaced when violence was in the offing; a manifestation of what melodramatic writers called 'the beast within'. If Grant was the pain, Ward was the rage. If Grant longed for healing, Ward demanded vengeance. Ward was a boy, then man, of fierce and primal motives, who trusted the instincts Grant reasoned against. Ward surfaced to fight... until he got to know Skye, as Grant had. Then he developed another appetite, besides that for destruction._

_He actually came to the surface more once Skye came into Grant's life, but much of the time he managed to do it so subtly that Grant wasn't aware of it. Grant had such a disorted view of love that he didn't realise he was in love with Skye... but Ward saw things through a more tightly focused lens, and he was completely aware that Skye was the one for him – for both of him._

When he took her over the first peak, he groaned with her, and Skye knew he was already struggling to hold back for her sake. Ward braced himself with his hands on either side of her torso, using the leverage to drive himself into her harder. Skye bucked her hips to meet him, and her eyes glazed over in pleasure. Skye moaned loudly when he hit a particularly good spot inside her, and tangled her fingers in his hair before she slid her hands over his shoulders.

He was trembling with the effort it took to hold back, not to pound into her. In an effort to soothe him a little, Skye ran her nails down Ward's back. Just hard enough for him to feel it, but making sure she didn't mark his skin. Skye could never leave marks of her love on Ward; Grant would be so confused, even afraid. Skye couldn't bear the thought of seeing Grant hurt like that, and being the cause was worse.

_When Grant was eighteen and Skye was sixteen, one of the local gang-bangers attempted to mug them, and threatened to rape Skye. Ward surfaced in a towering rage and nearly ripped the petty thug apart with his bare hands. Skye knew she should be shocked and dismayed by his behaviour, but instead she found herself incredibly excited by the animal beauty Ward displayed... and thrilled by the idea of that danger surfacing for __**her**__. To protect and safeguard __**her**__._

_Ward had taken one look at her, and grinned in ferocious satisfaction. He'd kissed her in that alley, a devouring, drowning kiss that had made her knees weak and her panties wet. Skye had all but dragged him into the cheap hotel down the block, but once they'd shut the door to their room, Ward had taken control. He'd all but ripped the clothes from her body and thrown her on the bed. Skye's first sexual experience had been violent, bordering on frenzied, as Ward took her again and again. Claiming her like a feral beast driven to mate. Skye hadn't been frightened, though – she knew that both Grant and Ward would die before hurting her. Instead she'd relished it, gloating over the bruises and bite marks Ward left in the wake of his passion._

_For the first time in her life, Skye was utterly certain that she belonged to someone. That someone belonged to her. She was mated for life, to Grant __**and**__ Ward... even if only one of them knew it._

Ward's pace slowed a little as he calmed down, and Skye let her head tilt back and her eyes close once more, relishing the dreamy bliss seeping through her. All Skye had to do was enjoy Ward gently caressing her breasts, and the pressure of his deep thrusts filling her. Her arousal and pleasure felt differently than usual; a steady, seeping glow that didn't climb or ignite, but instead deepened, thrumming through her body like standing next to the bass speaker at a rock concert. She was usually much more energetic, even aggressive, during sex, but every so often it felt good to just let Ward take care of her in bed, the same way Grant did outside of it. She always loved being reminded of how similar the two were, under the surface.

She lazily tilted her hips, then gently tightened herself around him, and Ward let out a soft, reverberating growl. The sound sent a thrill shivering up her spine, and Skye repeated her intimate embrace in a slow, languorous tempo, until she felt Ward's fingers sliding between their bodies to stroke her in time, until one last, throbbing pulse rippled through her, making her arch her back and cry out, just before Ward came inside her.

Skye had fallen into a light doze, warm and sleepy from Ward's expert 'relaxation techniques', but she didn't stir when he slid out of the bed. She was used to it. When the shower stopped, she pushed herself up with a groan, so she was sitting upright when Ward strolled naked out of the connecting bathroom they all shared. Eyeing him appreciatively, she asked, "Do we have time for another round?"

Ward shook his head. "Me and Grant have both been running short on sleep. Besides, I've been coming out more often than usual this past week, because some lawyer from our fucking parents keeps trying to contact us. You'll stay with him when it happens?"

Skye nodded. "I'll be home the rest of the week, so I'll stick as close as I can to him until Monday, at least. I've got lots of sick time still if either of you need me – Dr Garner will write me a certificate, right?" she smiled.

Ward chuckled back appreciatively, and bent to give her a lingering kiss. "Grant's stirring – if I don't start trying to sleep now he'll surface before we get any rest. Catch you later, beloved."

"See you then," Skye smiled.

_Grant had said on more than one occasion that he thought Skye was his personal miracle. Skye found that incredibly flattering, but she thought that Grant becoming a patient of Dr Andrew Garner came a close second. The Doctor had started treating Grant for dissociative amnesia – his lost time – and had quickly realised he was dealing with something more. He'd had the wit to ask Skye for help, and she'd persuaded Ward to talk to the psychologist. Dr Garner was hopeful of one day being able to integrate Grant and Ward into a single, natural personality again... because Ward wanted that, too. Ward saw himself as a shard that needed to be fixed back into the looking-glass. _

_But Dr Garner and Ward were both adamant - Skye couldn't tell Grant about Ward. Skye couldn't tell her best friend that the reason she never teased him about his love life was that he had been in an exclusive relationship for almost seven years – with __**her**__. That the reason his body never urged him to find a lover was because it's sexual drives were being frequently sated, because his body spent more time in her bed than his._

After Ward dressed and went back to the couch, Skye took a quick shower herself, and dressed in a tank and yoga pants before she grabbed her personal laptop, a plate of lemongrass chicken with special fried rice, and settled into one of the big squashy armchairs she and Grant both loved.

Skye estimated that Grant had managed just over an hour's true sleep when he stretched and yawned, eventually rolling into a sitting position.

"Hey," he greeted her drowsily. "Wow, I feel so relaxed – how long was I out?"

"Hey yourself," Skye greeted him happily. "A couple of hours."

"Well, I feel great. Did you eat yet?"

"Yeah, I was starving. Want to make some popcorn and tequila sunrises?"

"Definitely – hey, I managed to hire a copy of 'Zardoz' the other day. Snarkfest?"

"Hell yeah! I'll make the drinks, you do the corn."

_Grant's psychologist and alter both agreed that Skye was the key to one day merging Grant and Ward, but they could do nothing until Grant became aware of Ward, and that had to happen naturally._

Drinks made and popcorn in a shared bowl, Skye and Grant settled onto the couch together.

About the same time the floating head with a mustache of evil – drawn on in marker, seriously! – started bobbing around the screen, Skye felt a warm pressure on her leg.

Grant rested his hand on her knee, idly rubbing his thumb across her skin.

Skye slid her gaze sideways, to discreetly watch Grant's face. After so many years, she knew Grant – and Ward - inside out, in word and deed. The expression on the face of the man beside her was all Grant, but Grant didn't touch her like this; he didn't caress her. **Ward** did.

Grant looked at her and gave her a sunny smile... and Skye could see a shadow of Ward behind his gaze.

Skye gave him – both of them – her best smile in return.

The time of Grant and Ward's merging was coming... and she couldn't wait to welcome **all** the man she loved into her arms.

_NOTE: Dissociative Personality Disorder (formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder) is actually incredibly rare in real life. However, one of the few things everyone can agree upon is that it is always caused by some kind of childhood trauma (which Grant Ward has in spades). Dissociative amnesia (lost time) is one of the lesser disorders that can also be symptoms of DPD. _

_Zardoz is a so-bad-it's-glorious sci-fi movie that Sean Connery made in the 70's, post-Bond. Wearing a red leather nappy, thigh-high dominatrix boots, and a waist-length plait. The bit described herein is the opening scene, and it just gets better from there. If you want to play a drinking game, take a sip every time every time you see bare boobies (trust me, all the women in this movie have 'boobies', not breasts). Make sure it's a sip, though, or you'll end up unconscious by the halfway mark._


	5. Day 5: Record Player

DAY FIVE – PROMPT: RECORD PLAYER

**By Morning Light**

_More in the 'This Spy for Hire' universe: this takes place roughly six months before the Agents of SHIELD pilot episode. Just a glimpse of daily life for this Skye and Grant._

_Oh, and this was almost completely inspired by a motion gif I saw on tumblr of Chloe boogying on the spot in front of a green screen. Wasn't sure why until I heard Michael Jackson's 'Rockin Robin' on my oldies station!_

Grant and Skye never knew where the record player came from. It was just there, waiting for them, the day they moved into their new, **official** office suite.

For the first couple of years, they'd been rootless; Skye refused to use her van for business, and Grant's safe house-turned-apartment wasn't a good idea for security reasons. But business started to pick up really quickly after an... **incident**... involving Justin Hammer, enough so that Grant decided they should get an actual place of business; it offended his sense of propriety to meet clients in bars, airports and even shopping malls, when they met at all – it smacked of sleaziness.

After a protracted argument with Skye (who hated the idea of a permanent address of any kind), and lots of scouring the internet, they walked into their new office on a Tuesday. The only furniture was the table in the corner; there was a record player on top of it, and a small, old-fashioned trunk full of records underneath it.

The first thing Grant did was take the player apart, looking for surveillance devices or explosives. He didn't find anything.

The second thing Grant did was find someone who could put the record player back together, because Skye really wanted to listen to the records in the trunk.

The office door opened without a sound, the two figures walking through it turned into shadows by the lack of light. As the smaller person darted forward, the taller deftly caught the penny that fell off the top edge of the door itself, pushed off by the pressure of the door opening.

The smaller figure headed unerringly for the north-eastern corner, where glints of chrome and glass hinted at the mainstay of any office – the coffee machine. The other headed towards the windows, where wooden Venetian blinds did their best to block out the LA morning, with a fair amount of success.

On a long black couch against the southern wall, a dark, long and irregularly-shaped lump tossed and mumbled.

The two recent arrivals looked at each other, and then turned back to their business. While the taller quietly raised the blinds furthest from the couch, the smaller set out several cups, and brought out milk and sugar from a small refrigerator that sat underneath the bench that held the temple of caffeine worship.

As the aroma of Hawaiian Roast started to waft through the air, the lump on the couch stirred again. A tousled head of long brown hair poked out from under a polar fleece blanket, printed with a star field and several alien planets.

The small intruder gently stepped closer, their hands all but dwarfed by the large mug they cradled. Closer, closer, until the lump on the couch lurched upwards, and turned into a young woman.

She sniffed once, twice, and her eyes opened, focusing on the coffee mug.

"Mmmm, come to Mama," she muttered, holding out her hands to receive the mug.

Eyes still at half-mast, she took several slow sips, while her coffee-bringer waited anxiously.

The young woman let out a long contented sigh, before her eyes snapped open, and focused intently on the small boy beside the couch.

"Do we pay you?" she asked.

The little boy, who had skin the colour of coffee beans himself, shook his head.

"We should. MIKE!"

"I'm right here," chuckled the man by the windows, whose skin tone matched his son's.

"Double Ace's allowance, and take it out of petty cash."

"I thought you said that office mascot was an unpaid position?"

"It is. We're paying him as office barista in training." The woman broke out into a sunny smile. "Thanks, Ace. Morning!"

Ace gave an equally sunny smile – without benefit of coffee – back. "Good morning, Skye!"

Skye frowned. "Wait, shouldn't you be in school? Or did you drop by for breakfast?"

Ace giggled. "It's Saturday."

"Seriously?" Skye frowned. "Huh."

"Girl, when did you go to sleep?" Mike asked, his fatherly instincts surfacing automatically, even for one of his employers.

"I think it was Thursday. At least, that's when I last remember having coffee."

Skye shrugged, and climbed off the couch, dragging the blanket with her to the small bathroom – she was stripped to her lacy cami and boyshorts, and didn't want to corrupt Ace just yet.

As she turned on the shower, she could hear Mike opening the rest of the blinds and doing his 'opening for business' routine.

Once she and Grant had officially moved in, it turned out that one of the biggest issues they'd had, strangely enough, was keeping the office tidy. It wasn't as if either of them were very messy – given they'd spent the last several years living out of a van and a military-style duffel, respectively – but between Grant flying out to other cities or even countries at almost a moment's notice, Skye staying up for 36 hours straight writing code then crashing on the couch (sometimes leaving computer parts strewn around), things tended to get chaotic. Things finally reached crisis level when they had the power cut off twice and the water once in one quarter. Fortunately, whatever divine beings look out for spies and computer hackers (Hermes, maybe?) had made a perfectly normal innocent bystander walk into one of their jobs.

On that particular day, Mike Peterson had been having an even shittier time than Grant - and Grant had been shot at, jumped out a window to avoid an explosion, shot at again and had his motorbike towed. Before lunch.

When Grant tried to explain to Skye later how he'd ended up taking along a complete stranger – a **civilian **stranger – on the second half of the job, he couldn't figure it out himself. Grant only knew that if he hadn't had Mike along, he'd be somewhere between jail, hospital, or the morgue. When the dust cleared, Grant and Skye offered Mike a twelve-week probationary period in the office, officially doing 'whatever'. Four weeks into his 'probationary' period, they offered Mike a contract, complete with carefully researched employee health plan.

Grant called Mike 'the front man'

Skye called Mike 'the office manager'

Mike called himself 'The one around here who makes sure the lights turn on and we've got some damn toilet paper'... among other things.

Strolling out of the bathroom, Skye felt like she might just be ready to face the – _ugh!_ – morning. Even after all these years, she still didn't understand how Grant did this whole 'AM' thing so casually.

Skye stretched her hands up to the ceiling and felt her spine stretch in a satisfying sort of way – the Tai Chi classes one of their oldest clients had recommended were definitely good for more than one thing.

Looking around, she saw only one of the three males in her life. Grant was safely en route from Mumbai - thus, her Van Winkle-esque snooze after 48 hours awake.

She strolled over to the record player, where Ace was carefully going through the rack that Mike had built to hold the record collection. Grant and Skye had made a habit of adding to the collection every chance they could, especially in downtime on a mission (which is where the Edith Piaf and ABBA albums came from), so it had long outgrown the trunk that still sat next to the player.

"Hey there, Ace-in-the-Hole. Where's your dad?"

"He went to get breakfast from the Sunny Side Up. Also to see if Grant needs a ride from the airport."

"Cool. What do you feel like spinning this morning?"

Ace held up an album with a grin. Skye grinned back.

"Excellent choice! If anything can get me up and at 'em in the morning, it's our man Michael."

Grant Douglas (formerly Ward) actually let out a silent sigh of relief as he approached the office door. Why did he only ever have to go to Mumbai in the rainy season? He felt like he'd been carved out of wood, only without the joints of a puppet. Not only had he been rained on relentlessly for several days straight, he'd had to make tracks on the first plane available.

"Flying coach blows," he muttered to no-one. Which went to show just how worn out he was.

As he paused outside the office door for his automatic status check, he listened closely for familiar voices.

The one he heard **was** familiar... but Grant was fairly sure his voice had broken back in the eighties. Not to mention, he'd been unfortunately dead for awhile now.

Grant carefully opened the office door, so he could slip into the room unnoticed. His caution paid off, evidenced in the grin that slid across his face. He quickly retrieved his phone from his jeans pocket, and managed to get the video camera in position in the nick of time to record Ace and Skye doing a dual booty-shake right in his direction.

_Every little swallow, every chick-a-dee, every little bird in the tall oak tree_

Ace tried to do a moonwalk, without much success. Skye had only a little more - she could pull off not only the moonwalk but the entire 'Thriller' routine spectacularly, but only when she was drunk.

Grant did his best not to laugh and give himself away; Mike was going to love this footage, even if the need for anonymity prevented Mike from putting it online. He could still show his sister, the next time he and Ace went up to visit her.

When serendipity had landed Mike in their laps – or more precisely, their office – Ace had been an unexpected bonus. Ace was the first time Skye and Grant had been around a kid on a regular basis since St Agnes, and they'd both been utterly surprised at how much they liked it. The kid had a way of making anyone smile (which they'd used to great effect on at least two jobs).

_Blow Rockin' Robin 'cause we're really gonna rock tonight!_

Skye had switched to doing a version of The Swim instead – or was it that point-and-stare bit from 'Greased Lightning' in _Grease_? Either way, Grant was enjoying every second of it.

With any luck, they'd make it to the end of the song, before Skye caught sight of him and started screeching – or made him join in.

FIN

_I was never sure where I was going to end this (the mental image of Skye and Ace dancing in the office was the only thing I ever had for this piece)... so here seemed safe enough! Finally, I can finish posting this thing! _

_This is one of the pieces I was most looking forward to writing, and it's one of the two I had the most trouble getting done! (sigh) Typical. And of course, needing them all done in order means that I couldn't post the others (day six and seven were finished back in January!) until this one was complete._


	6. Day 6: In a galaxy far far away

**DAY SIX – PROMPT: IN A GALAXY FAR FAR AWAY**

_NOTE: Not really sure where I was going for this... maybe some kind of space ninja-soulmate mix? Since I'm late posting, someone else naturally came up with a similar idea. Hope they don't take this badly! I was going to fill in the gaps a bit more, but I kind of like it the way it is... I think I manage to hint at a lot of background in this 'verse without having to outright say it._

Grant is already six when the one he is destined for is finally born, and the dark smudges first appear on the inside of **both** his wrists. By the time he is sixteen, they have grown almost to the bend of his elbows; smoky, half-formed trails on his pale skin. By the time he is nineteen, they have sharpened into distinctive pictographs.

The inside of his left forearm bears a repeated pattern of a sun-in-glory, with various shapes of clouds and swirls that he thinks represent winds. Hidden in the pattern are marks in a non-Terran language that Grant has seen on ships bearing those known as the Star-Seeds. The inside of his right forearm bears a row of marks shaped like the phases of the moon, from crescent to gibbous to full and back again. Surrounding them are four-pointed diamonds, arranged into constellations Grant doesn't recognise.

Grant is the only acolyte in the cloisters who is old enough to shave, and still called Ward, not Warder. Despite the marks that decorate both his inner forearms, the one he was born to protect and serve either cannot find him, or refuses to claim him.

Grant is twenty-one when a former member of the Order visits. She is the first Warder he's met who is also Marked on both arms; the patterns curl around her wrists like bracelets, elegant and discreet. He spars with Melinda May for an embarrassingly short time – but finds out later that he lasted far longer than anyone else.

What Grant doesn't know is that when May returns home, she immediately goes to her own Protectorate. Phillip and his wife Audrey have spent years wondering about the Protectorate marks that their Star-Seed fosterling bears. May is finally able to tell them why the marks form ancient sigils of protection, defence, and warning; why the marks Skye bears are a powerful safeguard for her in their own right. The one born for StarLady Skye did not reject or abandon her; he was simply born too early, and has been patiently waiting ever since for her to come for him.

Devoted as she is to Phillip, May has never told him that several of the sigils indicate that Skye's Warder will also be her lover – perhaps even her Mate. But from her brief time assessing him, May is sure that Grant will be outstanding in that capacity too.


	7. Day 7: sneak peek

DAY SEVEN – CHLOE AND BRETT APPRECIATION SNEAK PEEK

_As deeply as I appreciate Chloe Bennett and Brett Dalton, I can't really work with the original theme, since all my fills for Skyeward week 2015 are fanfic; I don't do Real Person Fic. Ever. I've come across some fanfic authours who've done it extremely well, in ways that don't feel invasive of the people involved (especially in the Supernatural fandom), but I don't feel capable of doing it myself, nor do I want to._

_While I was contemplating why I'm late filling half these prompts (I was making myself sick through lack of sleep, so I took a night or two off to watch MythBusters instead; one of my best friends really wanted some company, and I'd blown her off once already to work on this stuff), I came up with yet another idea. I think it's got legs, and at this point I'm planning to expand it for my entry for couplesbang. So here's a quick look at my fic tentatively titled _In the Shadow of Uadjet_, which was inspired by one simple idea: What if Melinda May had been The Clairvoyant's agent on board the BUS, instead of Grant Ward?_

**_NOTE:_**_ '__Andrew' again refers to Dr Andrew Garner (Melinda May's ex-husband, a forensic psychologist). Also, the following two scenes are directly based on ep 2x03 'Making friends and influencing people' (one alternate and one missing scene) not to mention some of the more tragic events of the Hydra revealed arc. Angst warning!_

Skye kept firing until she'd emptied the mag, then hit the switch to bring the paper target up to the front of the firing range. As the machinery whirred, she swiftly ejected the mag and efficiently cleared the gun, making sure there was no stray ammo left in the weapon.

"How'd you do?" came Ward's voice from behind.

Skye showed him her latest target – sporting a group of headshots and a group of heartshots – with restrained pride. "I pretended they were all May."

Ward's usual stony cold facade slipped a little, and he gazed at her in what Skye would swear was concern. "Don't do that anymore." Before she could work up enough steam to retort, Ward added, "Anger? Hate? You need to be very careful with those. They're both powerful fuel in the short run, but over longer periods of time, they can poison the very foundation of control you're striving for. In the long run, they can destroy you. Go read _Moby Dick_ if you don't believe me. Or better yet, ask Andrew. It's one of the first things he taught me, when he got me out of juvie."

"Because forgiveness is required in order to heal?" Skye asked skeptically. She was a long way from forgiving Melinda May – and it got longer every time she saw Coulson half-turn his head, in an aborted attempt to ask a question of a person no longer at his back. "How long did it take you to forgive your parents? Or Christian?"

"I haven't," Ward told her matter-of-factly. "I doubt I ever will. But I did find a way to move on from them. To find a kind of revenge in leaving them far behind me."

Skye bit her lip, and moved a half-step closer, so she could feel the warmth of Grant's body brush against her skin, even if she couldn't touch him. "I can't move past the damage she's done. I can't just leave behind what she's taken from us."

She wasn't just talking about the team as a whole, and they both knew it. Grant's eyes darkened with emotion, and for just a second Skye saw the man she'd known in Providence base. Then his expression iced over again, and he deliberately stepped back.

Turning to the side, he picked up and displayed some kind of rifle that was almost as tall as she was.

"Sniper rifle. I want you to practise with it now, so you can get used to the recoil." For a moment, he looked almost abashed, then Ward continued. "I know you want to be a field agent-"

"I **am** a field agent," Skye told him emphatically.

Ward gave her a nod of acknowledgement. "Yes, you are. My point being, sniper is something that normally only specialists get trained for; Coulson knows how to fire a regular rifle, but I doubt he's ever touched one of these. But this is a skill that we're lacking on the team."

Skye eyed him shrewdly. "And it's got nothing to do with keeping me out of harm's way?"

"Of course it does." Grant's calm admission rocked her just enough not to protest. "I care for our team more than a specialist is supposed to, but I can't do anything about it. I don't even want to. So in order to stay focused in the field, I'm spreading my targets as best I can. Fitz won't be going anywhere for awhile, and even when his occupational therapy's complete he'll always have someone with him in the field. Simmons I can't do anything about right now, and Coulson and Trip can take care of themselves." Grant looked at her, his eyes entreating her with the things he couldn't say out loud. "I'm not lying about needing this skill either, Skye. We've got several experienced hand-to-hand combatants available besides me, Tripp and Hunter - I'm just being honest when I say that you're nowhere near that level yet. But we have a limited pool of agents, and one of the things that can drastically reduce the risk of losing another team member is having someone who can literally watch our backs. Saying 'look out behind you' isn't just a horror movie cliché, Skye, it's something that can keep our people alive. Ask Coulson to tell you a few stories about Barton sometime. And yes, Skye – if it keeps you far away from enemy bullets, it means that I won't have to divide my attention to make sure you're safe."

Skye took a deep breath, and forced her voice to be calm and reasonable, not whiny. "You've been training me to keep myself safe. You still are. Why can't you trust in that training?"

"It's not that, Skye." Grant's eyes were dark and burning again, and Skye's next breath caught in her throat. "It's that I won't ever – I **can't** ever - stop looking to make sure you're alright. I've accepted that's never going to change, not as long as I live. So I have to find ways of making sure it doesn't affect my efficiency in the field. Or my ability to keep the others safe too."

Skye bit her lip, and once again damned Melinda May to Hell. The last circle, reserved for mutineers and betrayers. Of all the damage she'd wrought, the part Skye hated May for most was what she'd done to Grant and Skye's nascent relationship – and it had been for nothing more than a distraction.

Skye hadn't had a lot of experience with romance or relationships, thanks to her vagabond lifestyle and the wounds of her pinball-in-the-machine childhood. A few adolescent infatuations had led her stumbling through her first experiments with dating and sex. The shifting sands of young adulthood had thrown her together with Miles, whose generous mentoring into the most elite circles of hacking, and steadfast support (no matter what happened later) had helped her come to terms with her sexuality and find her feet with the last stages of growing up. But while Skye had cared deeply, and lusted, she'd never been in love. Not as a girl, and never as an adult.

Then Grant Ward, her Robot SO, had all but laid his heart at her feet in a janitor's closet while she was carrying a backpack of explosives.

For just a few hours, Skye had been filled with the joyous certainty of a full-grown woman who knows her heart is secure, and that her love is returned. Skye had still been wary of starting an actual relationship, but she already had ample proof of the lengths Grant Ward would go to in order to protect someone he cared about, and of the strength of his loyalty.

Spurred by May's words as she left to find Maria Hill (or so she'd said at the time), Grant had found the courage to say everything Skye needed to hear, to tear down her last barriers. If there was never a right time to start something, then why wait? Her heart overflowing, Skye hadn't let Grant move them to his quarters, or hers. Her need overwhelming, she hadn't been able to let him off the couch in the lounge longer than it took both of them to get undressed.

Jemma's autopsy of Eric Koenig had confirmed the same damning conclusion that Grant had already come to: about the same time Grant's naked body had settled on top of hers, deliciously crushing her into the couch cushions, Melinda May had found Koenig waiting for the hack into the NSA satellite of the Fridge breach to finish. May had garrotted Koenig just as the man Skye loved entered her for the first time, showing her what it truly meant to be a lover. While May worked to hide Eric's body, Skye had shuddered in ecstasy and dragged her nails down Grant's back, as Grant groaned her name and gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises.

With every word Jemma spoke, Skye had seen the last remnants of her lover fade away, leaving only the Specialist behind. Her SO, at least, returned in a slow trickle, but it wasn't enough. Skye needed the man – she needed **her** man, the one she was beginning to dread she would **never** be able to stop loving.

Skye swallowed all the pleas and recriminations she wanted to use to make Grant admit he still felt the same way she did. This wasn't the time. Dr Garner had cautioned her to take things slowly; one of the most fundamental pieces of Grant's personality, his caregiver tendencies and need to protect, had received a huge blow. In large part because he'd relaxed his guard and indulged only his own needs, while he claimed the first thing he'd wanted for himself for a long time.

"So how does this thing work?"

As they filed off the Quinjet, Skye couldn't look up to see Coulson's disappointed gaze. She deliberately didn't hear the suggestion that she report to medical. She simply returned the sniper rifle to the armoury, took a shower so quick the water didn't warm, and slumped into her bunk.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Skye looked up to see Ward in the doorway.

"What is it? I have 24 hours to complete my mission debrief."

"That's not exactly what I wanted to talk to you for." Ward gestured with his head towards the main communal quarters. "Come on."

"I don't want to go anywhere right now," Skye confessed.

"I know. That's why I'm making it SO's orders. On your feet, Rookie," Ward's voice wasn't unkind, but it was definite. "If it helps, Trip's got a bottle of the good stuff waiting."

Skye looked at him thoughtfully. "That does help."

So did the hand Ward offered her, and that he didn't let go while he led her towards the room they'd set up as a makeshift rec room and bar.

As promised, Trip was waiting. Skye took a good look at the bottle standing on the bar, and her eyebrows rose, despite her entire body feeling numb. "Where'd you score that? Coulson's stash?"

Tripp shook his head, smiling slightly. "Nah. Hunter donated it to the cause. He's been here, too."

Skye stood behind the bar stool next to Trip, silently taking in the quartet of glasses in front on her. Three had several fingers worth of excellent liquor; the fourth was empty.

"Please tell me that isn't for Donnie."

"This isn't a rite for him, Skye, it's for you," Trip told her gently. "I did a college course in anthropology once; I remember reading about a couple of the ancient and even Dark Ages peoples where all the young warriors had to drink the blood of the first man they killed."

Even in her current mood, Skye couldn't help but say, "Gross," as she sat down.

Trip nodded. "From the arrow or sword, not the corpse, luckily, or there probably would have been a lot more disease. But it was meant to keep the ghosts of all the men you killed as a warrior from following you. Guess it's the sort of thing that gets passed down through the ages – with some modifications, thank Christ. When I made my first kill, Garrett sat me down with some shitty tequila and a couple of shot glasses."

Grant had already taken the seat on the other side of Skye. "Me too. Told me it was an old SHIELD tradition to celebrate your first kill in the field. We knocked back several apiece, before he clapped me on the shoulder, told me congratulations, and wandered off with the bottle. I think I lasted five minutes after that before I threw it all up again."

Trip snorted. "I could barely hold it back until he left the damn room. Only thing that kept me from puking on his shoes was the thought of what Garrett would do to me afterward."

Skye looked down at the bar to keep her expression hidden. Ward and Trip had recounted some of the gory details about their respective training with Garrett while they were all hiding out in that cheap LA motel. She'd hacked into several SHIELD records to find out more. In between his affable smiles and exaggerated stories, Garrett had put the two men flanking her through the equivalent of the Navy SEALS Hell Week, spread out but repeated several times just that first year, in order to attempt to break them the same way Bahrain had broken May, and leave them ripe for Garrett's plucking. There weren't many people in the world she despised more than May, but Garrett was definitely one of them.

"Is that what we're doing?" she asked bitterly. "Celebrating?"

Grant and Trip's faces lost whatever grim amusement they'd had. Grant raised his glass solemnly, and told her, "No, Skye. We're not giving you congratulations. We're giving you condolences."

Trip raised his glass in turn, and nodded.

Skye sighed and raised hers, and they all took the first sip together.

After drinking their way through several rounds in understanding silence, Skye started to silently weep. Trip let out an imperceptible sigh of relief, and gave Grant a meaningful nod before he left. Grant capped the bottle, hid it beneath the bar for Hunter to retrieve later, and gently steered Skye back to her room.

But it was Skye who dragged him into her quarters and locked the door. It was Skye who pulled his head down to hers, and kissed him like a starving woman. It was Skye who all but begged Grant not to turn her away again, because his touch was the only thing that made her feel like a real person instead of a monster.

But it was Grant who picked her up in his arms, and carried her to bed, before he did everything she asked.

_And now? I'm finally DONE! 'Scuse me for a few days, everyone. I'm going to go catch up on Akatsuki no Yona, The Flash, Gotham, and The Librarians._


End file.
